Guilt

I have been feeling guilty lately.  White-upper middle class-first world-educated-employed-have everything I need and a safety net kind of guilt.  Normally I think about this when I get focused on how much I want a new purse or nicer furniture or a bigger house, the kind of things that would be nice to have but can or should I really spend money on them when there are so many starving children in the world?  But lately, lately the news, and my guilt, is hitting home on a whole new level.  Because "my" people are being terrorized.  People who believe in the same God, in the same Christ that I believe in are being terrorized for precisely those beliefs.  Who am I, that I was born into a country that cherishes freedom of religion and they were born into a country torn apart by religion?  I try to put myself in their place.  How would I react if armed militants barged into my house, demand that I convert to Islam or be killed?  The idea of such a thing happening in my country is so absurd that I am dumbfounded.  How can anyone possibly think that is acceptable behavior?  And yet it's happening.  And now these people, my people, are trapped on a mountain.  Are they taking refuge in God, as the Bible teaches us to do?  Is their faith making their trial any easier?  Can they feel the prayers that Christians around the world are saying for them?  Do our prayers make any difference?

I sat safely ensconced between my grandparents at Mass this morning, a rare but special occasion for me.  And we sang a hymn called "Be Not Afraid,"

You shall cross the barren desert, but you shall not die of thirst.
You shall wander far in safety though you do not know the way.
You shall speak your words in foreign lands and all will understand.
You shall see the face of God and live.
Be not afraid.  I go before you always.
Come, follow me, and I will give you rest.

I couldn't help but put myself in the shoes of the Yazidi and wonder if the words of this song would mean anything if I was on that mountain with them.  The words are illogical, especially, I imagine, to those who are literally starving and dehydrated.  Yet I believe in a God that makes these words true. Somehow, though its hard to imagine how, I believe God is sustaining and strengthening my brothers and sisters in Christ.  Through the horror and the fear and the sadness.  Because let's face it, it's not like God hasn't seen this kind of suffering in the world before.  And it's not like we Christians haven't ever been the perpetrators (again, back to the guilt....)

So where does that leave me?  Besides fervently praying for those people and then returning to my very privileged life?  Probably because I'm so comfortable in my own life, there aren't many times when I pray for Christ's return.  But in the face of suffering like this, my heart can't help it...

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.